A Flag of Truce by David Donachie

Author:David Donachie
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: rt, Naval Battles, bolt, HIstorical, Naval - 18th century - Fiction
ISBN: 9780749013042
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2012-02-25T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Ralph Barclay had turned at the same, small commotion, but his reaction was one of very obvious fury, yet he could do or say nothing and he fought to compose his features; who knows, people might assume she was here to support his case. Her defiance was known only to him.

‘Mr Burns, please tell the court what happened when you landed.’

He had to go on, there was no choice. If he blurted out now that his previous evidence was a lie, he would be in the dock as much as his uncle. It was a good thing he had been so thoroughly rehearsed, for that took over and it was in something of a daze that he answered.

‘It was pitch black, sir, which gave us no clue as to our true location, and the tavern into which Captain Barclay sent his scouting party would not have known they were in the wrong place entirely, no more than we outside did, as we secured the exits.’

‘There was violence, was there not?’ one of the other captains enquired. ‘The men taken did not surrender without offering resistance.’

‘One or two, sir, but not all. I would say that a goodly number of the men recruited took it to be their fate. How could they not, living in such squalor?’

All five adjudicating captains, Lieutenant Birdutt, Pigot and Ralph Barclay adopted stony expressions at that statement, lest such a blatant piece of nonsense elicit the reaction it deserved; profound disbelief. Every one of those captains had pressed men in their time, and though they had also recruited volunteers, with bands, posters, bribes and downright falsehoods about untold wealth, they knew that it was not done in the hours of darkness, and in a place where men were taking their ease.

‘I take it,’ asked Pigot, ‘since he has been so vehement in his denunciation, that Lieutenant Pearce was not of that number.’

‘I could not say, sir. He was not at that time Lieutenant Pearce, he was just another volunteer, one face amongst many.’

As Pigot gave the judges a meaningful look, the sound of a slight cough from behind, which he guessed to be his Aunt Emily, made Toby Burns’ skin crawl. He was also aware that he was sweating, conscious that a cabin too full of bodies was turning stuffy, and licking his upper lip he tasted salt.

‘The men were taken into your boats,’ Pigot continued, ‘shipped down to Sheerness, where they were given the chance to volunteer for service to the Crown.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And did you see any evidence of dissention?’

He had seen them coming aboard that grey morning, some bearing cuts, others scars and bruises, rubbing wrists that had chaffed at their restraints, one or two weeping, many confused, others emitting looks of sheer defiance. He had not known it was Pearce when Ralph Barclay cuffed him hard round the ear; that he found out later.

‘Sir, I can recall, just before I went to my berth, that there was a great deal of jollity.’

‘Jollity?’

‘Laughing, an exchange of teasing.

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